A Broken Hallelujah (formerly known as Monsters From The Sea)
by Mopargirl1
Summary: DISCONTINUED...Sorry guys, I've lost interest in the show and Rollo since the new season began. If anyone wants to adopt this story, pm me. Injured and taken prisoner by heathen Raiders from across the sea, Ara finds herself alone in a strange land. Fate
1. Prologue

**Authors notes: So this is my first vikings fic and I'm afraid my timeline is a little off so I'd like to apologize right now! It begins when they travel the river in Northumbria.**

**I will try my hardest to keep the cannon characters true to their television depiction... But if I don't feel free to let me know, pm me, review me if you notice anything, I welcome the input and the help it can be! Haha!**

** And the rumors I speak of in the end of this chapter are just rumors I thought would be probable in this situation.**

**WARNING:**

**This story is going to be violent and bloody, I will post a specific warning at the beginning of each chapter where there is disturbing material.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the vikings only my ocs and their stories**

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The Northumbrian sun shone clear and bright, kissing the rolling fields with spring's warmth and melting away all remaining reminders of the frozen ice and snow that had covered the countryside just weeks ago.

The song birds had traveled back to their summer homes among trees and hedgerows, their melodious tunes filling the air as they went about the busy work of rebuilding their nests. The woodcock and pheasant could be heard scurrying through the underbrush or seen leading their mates or families through fields and down paths as they searched for food. The ducks and geese returned to their marshy beds along the great winding river that curved through the heart of Northumbria, or to the marshes and ponds that dotted the countryside.

Other heralds of the change of seasons could be seen all around, the recently thawed ground filled the air with the earthy smell of rich soil, reminding everyone it was near time to plant, the first flora of spring popped up, as if overnight, dotting the countryside with specks of white, pink, yellow, purple and blue. Their sweet fragrance mingling with the smell of fresh earth and spring.

The winter had been a harsh one, at times it had seemed as though the inhabitants of the single cabin sitting in a small clearing, just a few hundred yards through the trees from the river were being punished by god's own hands in those bleak months.

At least that's what Ara Stampe had questioned, but only to herself. One didn't question gods plans or why things happened, after all, to everything there is a season.

It had been the same for most all their neighbors, the heavy rains of the previous summer had stunted the growth of the crops. Deep snow had made winter game scarce, poor crops had meant very few winter stores and the taxes of their King had taken most all that was left. Ara had came through the winter a stone lighter, her two younger sisters had fared better, but they'd all eaten less than they could so the younger children of the household had enough food to keep them healthy.

Ara sat on the bank of the river, fishing line in the water, sun warming her pale skin and auburn hair, her course brown skirts hiked up around her knees, her toes dangling in the cool water, she contemplated all these thoughts and many more.

Her young sisters Bree and Sibley gathering reeds from the water's edge. Their skirts hiked up and tucked into their kirtles like Ara. Their loud girlish giggles filled the air as they went about their work, drawing Aras attention. The sun glistened off Bree's vibrant red-gold hair, making it appears as though she had a halo of fire about her head. Ara continued to watch them as always noticing that it wasn't only Bree's hair that seemed to glow, it was all of her. Her chocolate eyes and happy smile.

Bree had only just passed her eleventh winter, but already she turned the heads of men. When she was a woman grown, she'd have her choice of men. Sibley was only nine, but she would be every bit as beautiful. A soft amused smile lit Aras face as she watched Sibley flick water at her sister with the end of a reed. The action illicited a loud peel of surprise from Bree whom promptly slapped the reed in her own hand, hard against the water splashing Sibley.

A sudden chill ran across Aras spine, the fine hairs on her neck stood up as she watched her young sisters play, another worry had begun to plague the people of Northumbria since the spring thaw.

The possible return of the Northmen.

Ara had personally never seen them, but had heard the tales of the men and women that had. Those horrible accountings made her hope she never did.

The first tales had come from the Monastery of Lindisfarne, the Northmen came from the sea on the back of a great storm, in strange vessels, decorated with bright sails and colorful shields. These godless creature's had then entered the monastery itself, stealing treasures and whatever else they cared to. They'd murdered many of the monks and took others, loading them on their strange ship with a figurehead like a serpent and carried them away into the mist. Their last blasphemous disrespect to those holy grounds was to set fire to the buildings themselves.

That tale had spread throughout, not only, Northumbria but all of England. Everywhere people talked of these soulless men, labeling them pagan. Whispers of them being a sign of the end times followed the stories.

Some claimed them to be Giants of men, tall and broad, wielding axes, trained warriors the likes of which England hadn't seen in an age, maybe never. The stuff of nightmares. More gruesome than the old tales of the Celts from the north of Britain. These grotesque monster from across the sea had eyes cold, devoid of emotion, they fought as though they had no fear. That in fact, they seemed to relish the blood shed and death.

Other stories had come, an attack on a village one Sunday morning, this time they entered the church during Sunday mass. Another tale came with that one, a battle on the beach, the sands had run red with blood, but not the blood of the soulless Northmen, it was English blood. Other stories had come with these tales, ones of rapes and beatings.

Rumors of woman being carried off, of being misused in front of their families. Ara pushed the dread spiraling in her stomach away and willed her mind to other things, but not before she crossed herself and sent up a silent prayer.


	2. Chapter 1

**First, and most importantly I must say thanks for the reviews, favorite, and follows! I'm glad you're all liking this story so far and I hope you continue to enjoy it. **

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Ara thought little about the Northmen after that day on the river. The tasks of everyday life left little time for idle hands or minds. The land had awakened and spring gave way to summer. The lush beauty of the Northumbrian countryside blossomed fully.

The newly planted crops of grains and vegetables began to grow, the sheep needed shearing and, as always, life moved with that ever present cycle and preparation of the seasons to come. But more than just the steady day to day drum of life kept Ara's mind away from unpleasant thoughts of the invaders from across the sea. She had, just a fortnight past, found herself betrothed. The upcoming union, arranged by her father had shocked Ara. That wasn't to say it wasn't welcome. But at the age of two and twenty, she'd long since given up any girlhood dreams of a hearth and family of her own.

Most of her child bearing years were behind her. That in itself made her undesirable as a wife. But a nearby neighbor named Mannox Fletcher, a widower of middle years with four small children of his own, had approached her father and he accepted for her.

She didn't expect it would ever be a passionate match and, really, a marriage of convenience was the best she could hope for. Fletcher needed a help mate and mother for his children and Ara was the most likely canidate.

She was, however, more fortunate than most woman that entered such arrangements, she had a taste of love once, long ago, when she was young, but Marcus had died of a lung fever. Leaving Ara heart-sick and alone.

Fletcher was a good and decent man and she respected him. Even if she never felt love for him, she would have that and could live comfortable in the knowledge he'd respect her as well.

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It was mid June and the summer sun shone warm and on this particular day Ara and her family were about the task of preparing the sheep for shearing. On days like this, when her family worked together to achieve one goal, Ara missed her brother the most. And not just because many hands made lite work, but because her fondest memories from childhood were of days such as this. Bram would tease and pester Ara as they went about their tasks, it made the the time pass faster and the work seem lighter.

They had a close relationship as children, Bram was three years older than Ara but it never seemed like much. Bram had been her best friend and her champion always. The bond they shared had stayed even after Bram had left home and traveled to the court of King Aella to join the ranks of his soldiers at seventeen.

Ara rarely saw him much these days, he came to visit when he could, but that wasn't often.

Today like those others long ago the farmyard was full of the noises of the nervous and anxious creatures, the lambs cried from their small pen as Ara stepped inside. They all shifted pushing themselves into the corner as Ara closed the gate. Smiling, she approached, surveying the small flock, she chose a little brown fellow. "Come here, little one," she said soft and reassuringly as she stepped forward, moving toward him. She bent down, her hands slipping firmly around the frightened, kicking animal, its thick, prickly fleece tickled the inside of her forearms.

She lifted him higher against her chest, wrapping her arms around him so she held him to her, his legs dangling down. He quickly gave up his fight and Ara smiled softly as she carried him from the pen, she turned her attention toward her father and sisters. Her father was kneeling down on the ground, busy finishing up the shearing of another lamb, her sisters stood to the side, Sibley waited to clear the shorn fleece away, Bree waited to lead the lamb to its new pen. Ara squinted as the sun came out from behind a cloud, watching amused as Sibley knelt down beside the frightened lamb their father was shearing. Her small hand reaching out and soothing the animal's brow as she leaned closer, no doubt, whispering loving words to the creature.

Her father finished up as Ara approached, letting the lamb go as he stood and the small animal gained his feet, only to be pulled into a tight embrace from her sister. "See, you're fine, " she announced as she let the lamb go. Ara chuckled softly.

As they worked, Ara helped to sheer, Sibley continued to gather the wool cleaning the tags and dense curls from the better wool and Bree led off the freshly shorn and swept the floor clean for the next. The noon hour arrived and Ara's mother called them to eat, they had all just sat down to their food when the rider came. The sound of hooves pounding across the yard told them all this wasn't a friendly visit, whomever the rider was; whatever their purpose may be, it wasn't good news.

The Northmen had returned and were, at this very moment, traveling up the Tyne if they continued their trip inland, they would pass by Ara's home within the next couple hours. The fear she'd felt so keenly that day by the river came back, coiling in her stomach and for a moment as the rider delivered the news, that fear had paralyzed her. Until Sibley had reached out taking hold of Ara's arm, her small hand trembling as the man continued to talk. Her youngest sister's touch and the terror in her eyes when Ara looked at her made the fear taking hold of her recede a bit.

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It was six days; six agonizing and nervous days before they received word that the Northmen were heading back down river. The news of things that had transpired up river circulated quickly, these Vikings, as Ara had heard them called only yesterday, were led by a Northman named Ragnar Lothbrok.

He and his band of heathens made camp on the river close to the villa of king Aella. They attacked the men the king had sent out to do battle with them. Striking the camp after dark and butchering most of the soldiers. Aras first thought as they'd been told this tale was of Bram, she'd seen the worry in her parents eyes also and heard it in their voices late that night when they thought Ara and her sisters were all asleep.

The King's own brother was in command of the force and had been taken prisoner. Aella, fearful for the safety of his brother, invited these pagan men into his court to discuss terms and the release of his brother, The Northmen wanted two thousand pound weight in gold and silver for his release. The king, willing to do anything to have his brother safely returned had agreed, but at the urgings of the bishop had requested one of Vikings be baptized so they knew they could trust them. The baptism happened the next day.

The king gathered the funds and sent it to the Viking camp under armored guard and the Vikings went back on their word. They killed the guard and then killed the King's brother, now they were heading back to the sea. As Ara listened to these tales she'd worried about Bram as had her parents. She prayed, but she tried not think on it too much, it may be sometime if he had been amongest those killed before they would know.

There were no fires in the small cabin Ara inhabited with her sisters and parents that night, no light at all, no one made hardly a noise as they waited for morning. Fear and anxious energy permeated the air. Her father tried to hide the tension he felt, but it showed in his creased brow and troubled eyes as he sat in his customary seat by the hearth, his gaze on the door. He always occupied this seat at night after dinner, usually his deep voice filled the air as they shared stories of their day. But tonight the house was dark and silent except for the murmurs of her mother's whispered prayers.

Her father eventually told Ara and her mother to take the children and wait out the night in the crawl space under the floor. Her mother refused sending, Ara down alone with them. She pulled Ara aside and hugged her tightly and slipped something into her hand. Ara pulled back slightly, her curious gaze moved to the object in her hand then shot back to her mother. "If you have too," Her mother said with meaning, holding Ara's gaze. Ara didn't need her mother to speak what her solemn brown gaze told her. Disbelief filled her as she shifted her gaze to Bree and Sibley. The knife was to be used if, God forbid, the Northmen came and happened to find them in the process. She hugged Ara tightly to her chest one more time and whispered, "Be strong," then pulled back and placed a gentle kiss on Ara's brow. She treated her other daughters with the same attention, telling them to be good girls and listen to Ara.

Ara held her father's gaze after she'd crawled into the hole under the floor. His fear was still visible and the way he looked at her made her feel like he was afraid he'd never see her face again. Her mother stepped into view and knelt down, passing Ara and her sisters their cloaks, her gaze no more encouraging than her husband's. "I love you all, my girls," Her mother said before they replaced the planks in the floor and put the hand woven mat that covered the opening back in place. The candle that had been lit long enough to get them in the crawl space was extinguished and something heavy scraped across the floor and was placed over the opening. Ara settled onto the hard ground, Bree and Sibely settled one on each side of her, her wary gaze moved to the end of the crawl space. And she prayed; prayed that God would protect them; that the Vikings would pass. That prayer turned into a prayer that he at least protect Bree and Sibley, that he would keep them from harm. And lastly, that he would give her strength to handle whatever lay ahead. A calm settled over her in the stillness as her sisters slept fitfully beside her. Eventually, Ara drifted off herself.

She awoke to a sound, her body stiffening. She lifted her head and looked toward the small opening at the end of the crawl space. It was hidden unless you knew it was there her father had concealed it earlier today as they'd taken precautions. Her ears strained to pick up any foreign sound trying to make up for what she couldn't see, her skin came alive with goose bumps.

For a second, she thought it was nothing, then she heard another noise, it sounded like hurried yet quiet footfalls beating on the ground outside as several people passed. Her body stiffened more and fear danced along her spine, her gaze moved to her sisters, she woke them quietly shaking each awake gently. She didn't need to tell them to be quiet as they waited. She just gathered them close holding the knife in her hand tightly. Within seconds, hell broke out above them. Sibley whimpered, Ara quickly quieted her. Pulling her close and trying to make out her face in the darkened passage, she made a soft shushing noise and bent closer, whispering, "Quiet."

Her mother's screams rent the night but were quickly silenced. Ara reached for Bree pulling her close as well.

They listened to the chaos above them as furniture crashed to the floor. Ara knew both her parents were dead somewhere above her. That knowledge seemed to stamp down the fear burning inside her. She had to make a decision. Unwilling or too much of a coward to even contemplate doing what her mother had said, she shifted into action, coaxing her terrified sisters toward the end of the crawl space. She knew it was now or never, she also knew they may be able to stay here hidden and undetected, but if anyone of them above stepped on the right floor board and felt it shift and heard the creak. they might investigate. So, decision made, she urged Bree and Sibley further down the crawl space, trying to be as quiet as possible.

She peeked from the end of the tunnel first, her eyes surveying what she could see, all looked silent, but she knew the chaos from within the house would soon spill out, after they'd assured themselves there was nothing worth stealing left inside, they'd turn their attention to the out buildings.

Taking a deep breath, she crawled out of the tunnel and into the yard, she cast another cautious look around as she helped Sibley out next, she moved to her feet but stayed close to Ara. Bree crawled through last, quickly gaining her feet, both girls watched Ara anxiously, fidgeting as they waited for her to tell them what to do. She wanted to reassure them they'd be fine, that she could save them, but Ara didn't know that she could. Instead of promises of safety, she whispered, "Hold hands, stay together and do as I do." They formed a chain, Ara in the front, Sibley in the middle and Bree last. Their best hope was to make for the woods. The barn sat between them and the trees. It would give them a blind spot once they'd reached it, they could approach the woods from behind the structure, out of sight of the house and in shadow. But the stretch of yard between them and it left them in the open.

Eyeing her sisters, she noted Bree and Sibley had the advantage of their cloaks, Ara had left hers behind in the tunnel. She told them to put up their hoods and approached the house, peeking around the corner and quickly pulling back.

There was someone there. Calm, a voice inside her whispered. Ara took a deep breathe, he wasn't facing them, Ara had seen that, but if he stayed there, even with his back to them, he still might hear them. Please God, help us, her mind pleaded in desperation and a calm settled over her again. Focus, she told herself, forcing her mind to an alternate route of escape when a sudden loud racket from inside the house filled the air. She cautiously peeked around the corner again. The man was gone. She didn't question, she moved.

Keeping a wary eye on the cabin as she quickly led the girls across the open space. They reached the barn quickly in reality, but it felt like forever. As she hurried her sisters around the side of the building, she looked back, freezing, the figure was back. In the shadow she couldn't tell which way he faced, if he knew she was there, he'd yet to pursue her. Sibley tugged on Ara's arm and Ara's gaze shifted toward her only for moment, her gaze snapped back to the man. He had seen her, his tall frame charging in her direction. She snapped into action, telling her sisters to run. She wanted them in the trees before he could see them again and it worked. She glanced back as they made the tree line and she couldn't see him yet. There was no way that she could hope to outrun him or them, if he called for the others, her eyes scanned their surroundings for a suitable hiding place. He was closer now, she could hear him. Her frantic gaze stopped on a thick group of bushes, it wasn't big enough for all of them, but it might be able to conceal the children. Ara pushed them toward it and pushed them inside, she handed Bree the knife she still held in her hand. "Stay here and don't leave until I come back, no matter what, " she whispered harshly. She moved to stand and Sibley's hand shot out and grabbed her arm, "Ara," She whispered fearfully.

"You're going to be all right," Ara whispered, "listen to Bree and don't move or make a noise." She pulled free of her sister's hand and stood, hurrying to another small bush several yards away and hunkered down behind it just as he stepped into view.

Heart pounding, Ara watched from her hiding spot as the Northman paused dangerously close to where she'd hidden her sisters. God, please keep them still and quiet, she begged silently. The Viking shifted his stance and moved closer to where they were. The hand that held the ax lifted higher and Ara reacted. She lifted a rock close to the size of her hand from the ground and purposely shifted, breaking a twig, his attention shifted in her direction, briefly scanning the bushes where she hid then it returned to where her sister were. No! her mind screamed, her body coiling tight with fear as he stepped closer. Ara stood and threw the rock with all the strength she could muster, her aim was a little better than it needed to be, the rock hit him in the temple, then dropped to the ground. She stood frozen for a moment as she realized the stupidity of her actions. She had put herself and her sisters in greater jeopardy. The man shook his head and his hand went to his shadowed face as he looked in her direction, his hand left his face, the other lifting his ax marginally as he took his first menacing step in her direction.

Run! The single word screamed through her panicked brain, reminding her to move. Ara turned, not looking back, and ran. She heard his feet pounding the ground and as she took her first stride. As she took her second, she knew he would quickly out pace her, and pushed herself harder, knowing if she stood a chance of losing him, she needed to lead him deeper into the trees where the brush thickened.

Her heart pounded in her ears, but the noise still wasn't loud enough to drown out the sound the giant who chased her. Despite the dense growth of brush around the trees, she knew he gained on her without looking. She made a sudden sharp turn following a game trail that ran as best she could deeper into the brush, one hand and arm outstretched in front of her to keep the branches from slapping her in the face. Her other holding her skirts out of the way as much as possible

The branches of the ever thickening brush, whipped and lashed at her body, tearing at her clothing, pulling her hair from her scalp and raising welts on her skin. The loud grunt, she heard behind and the string of words she couldn't understand that followed, made her think maybe her pursuer was having a harder time keeping up with her now. Any elation she may have felt over her followers slowed pace quickly faded as a wayward branch slipped past her hand smacking her across the face. The sharp sting of pain was blinding for a second and she stumbled as her hands went to her face. She momentarily forgot she was running from a monster, but the loud noise of him thrashing through the brush behind her reminded her she needed to move. She cast a wary look over her shoulder and began to move once more, she only looked back a second, but it was enough to tell her he was close, much closer than she thought. His large hulking frame was a silhouette in the dim light, but it made him no less frightening. Her stomach knotted in a fresh wave of fear and a chill ran across her skin.

Ara pushed herself harder, but it was useless, she had led him this way, knowing the brush thickened and hoping she could find another narrow passage to scurry down or that she could get far enough ahead of him she could crawl into the thicket on her stomach and hide from him in the bushes. But the brush only thickened, making her own progress more and more difficult, the branches grew close and as she pushed herself through them they dug at her skin. She tried to gain her bearings, figure out where she was, but the ever present knowledge of her would be captor gaining on her despite the dense undergrowth and his considerably larger size was the only thought she could seem to form.

Ahead of her in the moonlight, she saw the brush part. That meant she was almost to the path that led to river. It filled her with hope until she remembered she couldn't outrun him in the open, she pushed herself, wanting to put as much distance as possible between herself and him before she left the brush behind.

She reached the opening prepared to sprint across the field, her foot caught on a tree root, wrenching it painfully as she fell forward. Instinctively, her hands went out in front of her to protect her face as she continued to fall. The sharp pebbles of the ground bit into her exposed forearms and her knees through her skirts.

Her fall hadn't allowed her to forget her present danger though, she tried to stand, but her ankle gave way and she fell back to her knees, searing pain shot up her leg, but she forced herself up again, this time she managed to gain her feet and without looking back began to hurry away as fast as her injured appendage would allow. Each step sent pain radiating through her body, she didn't look back, she didn't want to see the proof of what her ears told her had happened.

He had left the thicket behind as well, his heavy footsteps against the ground as he covered the distance between them seemed to echo loudly in the still night. Like, in fact, he stomped his feet against a plank floor instead of soft earth. Her heart thumped painfully against her ribs.

The fear she had felt at being chased by him, as horrible as it was, was nothing compared to the terror that filled her as he reached her, a large hand wrapped around her small bicep and tugged on her arm painfully, the grip tightening on her arm more as he wrenched harder on her arm. Ara pulled against the grip, all thought or memory of the pain in her leg fled, she struggled against her captor, her free hand swung wildly. It made contact with his face and she dug in, feeling the flesh scrape away and lodge under her nails.

She must have shocked him because his grip loosened and Ara used it, pulling free of him only to stumble and fell again as she tried to run. Her palm connected with a sharp pointy rock this time, cutting her hand. This pain was also quickly forgotten, she felt her hair lift as he took hold of it and then she was being yanked roughly and painfully to her feet, her fingers wrapped tightly around the rock as she was propelled upwards. She shifted her body, content to smack him in the face with the rock, but this time he was prepared, his free hand shot out grabbing her wrist and twisting it painfully.

Ara struggled against his grip and tried to keep hold of the improvised weapon in her hand, in answer, he bent her wrist further back and he spoke. "Stop," His deep voice, commanded, sharply. Ara stilled, shocked by the sound of her native tongue coming from him, the hand that was still firmly tangled in her hair began to wind tighter into the mass and forced her to look up. She couldn't see much of his features, she stood close enough his head was bent to look down at her, but what she could see gave her some satisfaction. The three dark lines that ran from just under his right eye, down his cheek and disappeared into his beard. And for the first time she noted the odor in the air around her. It was the pungent smell of unwashed body, fresh sweat and leather. For some reason, the evidence of his unwashed state made the fear inside her well again. Forgotten was his knowledge of English or any personal satisfaction for maiming him, she tried to struggle again, this time he forced her wrist further back, she cried out in pain, feeling the fine bones of her wrist threaten to give way and the rock fell from her slackened grip.

The desperation of her situation and the terror compelled her to keep fighting him. She pulled against him frantically, trying to break free, before she knew it his hand had left her hair and encircled her arm in a painful grip once again and he was dragging her down the path toward the river. Ara stumbled painfully beside him, her injured leg protesting each step vehemently. She could hardly keep her feet under her let alone struggle against her captor's firm grip and wide gait as he pulled her along.

Several other shadowy figures stepped onto the path in front of them some distance away and paused, the newcomers' attention was centered on them and words were exchanged between her captor and them, none of which she could understand. Ara froze, her limbs were unable to move, but her eyes searched frantically for any sign of her sisters amongst the bundles they carried and drug along with them. Even when she saw none, she couldn't seem to move or breathe. All of them were large, giants, as the tales had said.

The hand still encasing her bicep pulled on her again, Ara leaned back trying to pull away as fear sent panic, then terror racing throughout her body, the hand on her free arm reached up and she clawed at his fingers trying to tear them from her. She was aware he moved, but only vaguely, she heard high pitched burst of laughter from down the path and foreign words being yelled as if in encouragement. Then her world went black.

The tall man looked down at the limp body on the ground, his brow furrowed, his eyes drifting over her prone form, he contemplated her for a moment in irritation as his comrades approached urging him to hurry. He bent down, scooping her slight weight up and throwing her over his shoulder then started toward his companions. A satisfied look on his face.


	3. Chapter 2

**Whoa, I don't even know what to say to all of you for the support I have received on this story so far! I never imagined this kind of welcome and it's so amazing, all of the reviews and follows and favorites have made my day every time I've gotten one! I hope in the future as this story starts to unfold that you all stay as happy as you are at present! Now for the authors note, please read all of it even though it's horribly long, it's very important that you do!**

******** WARNING********

**Please Note: SEX! Just kidding, haha! But now ****that I have your attention please note that although this CHAPTER has some religious content this is NOT the route I will take. I'm still just lying the foundation so you'll better understand the action/reaction that is to come. After this, it will be severely toned down.**

**Authors Note: Or a huge apology. First of all, for those of you that read the chapter 3 I posted on the 13th I am so sorry. When I wrote that chapter I was working with a limited time frame and I didn't go back and check the episode I started this story after (A Kings Ransom) subsequently I left out Lagerthas baby altogether. But as I want to follow as much of the show as I can with story I deleted the original chapter and rewrote a lot of it while leaving other parts pretty much the same. Believe me when I say I've never done anything like that before, but I have never written anything from a television show before only movies and I'm finding I need to pay closer attention.**

**Second of all, before my snafu with chapter 3 I had already rewritten or tweaked chapter two a bit to include Aras brother. Something else I had never done in the past, change an existing chapter. And again, I apologize, I promise not to make a habit of that either! For those of you that don't want to reread chapter two, the change was minimal, I just made mention of Aras older brother who's a soldier in King Aelles army.**

**And last of all, after all the rest of my changes and mess ups I decided to change the title of the story. Again I've never done that before either. I wasn't happy with Monster From The Sea when I used it, but I believe the title I now have suits this story much better!**

**And special thanks to my new friend for all the patience and help you've been as I've worked through figuring this chapter out!**

* * *

A nightmare of being chased was her waking thought, the Lord's Prayer passing silently from her lips before she'd even opened her eyes. Somehow, even in the dream, she'd known it was real. Her body tensed and she felt the cool, salty air against her skin and the rocking of the ship in the rough planks under her cheek. Dread spiraled throughout her than settled heavily into her stomach. Her pounding heart and racing mind tried to refuse the reality that she knew would greet her when she opened her eyes. That refusal only worsened as she began to relive the events that had brought her to this place in time. Her body froze as images and memories danced through her head.

Her mother's scream, things crashing to the floor above them, her sisters' fear and then the man who captured her. His huge, ominous presence chasing her through the brush like a demon from a nightmare, but he hadn't been a dream, this demon was very real.

Be strong, a calming voice from inside her whispered. She eagerly listened to that voice, breathing deeply and allowing those words to work through her and for a moment, her mind settled as her ears focused on the noises around her.

All around, there was activity, men talking in that strange tongue, she couldn't identify, the sound of the waves and creaking of timber mingling with it. But alas, her reprieve was short lived as a vision of Bree and Sibley as she hid them appeared in her mind's eye, freezing on Sibley's terrified face and her frantic grip on Ara's arm. Part of her had known, even then as she told them not to come out till she came back for them, it wouldn't happen. She wasn't too ever see them again. Another prayer passed silently from her lips, this one that they'd made it through the ordeal and that Bram would soon be with them. That prayer brought yet another to her lips and she found herself begging the Almighty that they didn't return to the cabin before help came and find their dead parents. Her stomach tightened harder around the lump that had settled there as she thought of her parents', her mothers embrace and her fathers face before he'd replaced the planks in the floor, he'd known he'd never see them again just as she'd know she wouldn't see her sisters' again.

She stayed curled up in a ball on her side, unaware her eyes had even opened until a pair of leather clad feet filled her vision and then one nudged her. Ara sat up quickly, her ankle screaming loudly in protest as she scooted back, her hand pressed against the wood under her and the wound on her palm opened again, but she didn't stop till her back was pressed against the solid wood of the mast. Her gaze shifted from his feet and her eyes traveled up him. He was already turning away from her, speaking in his strange tongue to some of his comrades. Someone laughed at whatever he'd said, then the man's attention turned back to Ara, he said something else and his eyes slid down her, assessing her person before he laughed himself, then turned away.

A gust of cold, wet wind hit her, making her tremble and filling her nostrils with the scent of filth that clung to his person as she watched him move away from her. She watched him warily a bit longer then she looked around. At first, she was surprised to see there were others like her on the ship. Her surprise faded when she remembered the story from Lindisfarne, this is what they did. In a way it was a comfort to not find herself completely alone.

There were four others in total all huddled close together nearby, their gazes on the plank floor of the vessel that carried them across the water. Two of the others were woman, both younger than her, she suspected, the other two were men. Ara watched them, she couldn't clearly see any of their faces because of their down turned heads, but she could feel the hopelessness and despair that clung to them. A shiver passed across her skin this one had naught to go with the wind. Give us strength, her mind whispered beseechingly.

Eventually, she began to wonder if her captor was here among these strange men so she warily surveyed them for any sign of him and found none. Part of her was elated, the very unchristian hope entering her breast that something had befallen him, that he'd been brought low by an English sword as she laid unconscious on the floor of this vessel, but then she remembered the reports had said there were three boats and she somehow knew he was on one of them.

For two stormy night and three calm days, Ara was left to contemplate what lay ahead and worry over her sisters', She slept very little, spending her time either in silent prayer or with her gaze pointed on what she could see of the horizon.

* * *

Ragnar stood at the prow of his longboat, a smile slipping onto his lips when he saw his two young children, Bjorn and Gyda waiting for him at the end of the dock on the beach. He was glad to be home. He didn't mind the raiding, he always eagerly anticipated the coming of summer and what came with it, but still, he was always happy to return. This time more so than usual, soon he'd have another son as the seer had prophesied.

The longboat glided up to the dock, Ragnar moved to the edge of it and climbed out and made his way toward his children, the question of where Lagertha was, entering his mind. She was always there to greet him when he returned. The smile on his face, broadening slightly as he reached his children. He pulled them into a tight affectionate embrace, then drew back, keeping one arm secured around each he looked down at Gyda and asked "where is your mother?" Gydas expression instantly turned worried, but before he could ask her what happened another voice spoke.

Lagertha held back observing her husband, the heavy weight that replaced that of the babe in her stomach tightened. She had carried this new weight since she'd lost her child, in mourning of a life that would never be and for her husband. Ragnar had so desperately wanted this child, this son. It had been a son. She had asked and while the midwife hadn't wanted to tell her and Siggy had told Lagertha maybe it was best If she didn't didn't know, Lagertha had demanded they tell her. With a heavy heart, she made herself moved toward her husband knowing he would question where she was. She said his name once she'd reached them, "Ragnar."

He looked up from Gyda a smile in his startling blue eyes, Lagertha couldn't seem to return the gesture and Ragnars gaze left hers slipping down her body to her belly. His eyes widening as they paused, a look of confusion lit his face for the briefest of moments and his gaze shifted between her stomach and face then back down again, resting on her empty stomach. She watched as the happiness and confusion of moments ago changed as it faded to a darker look. One filled with understanding, even though her time drew close it was still too soon.

* * *

Ara and the other slaves were herded to the side of the boat and began climbing out one by one, the task proved far more difficult than it would normally be. No matter how she tried it, she found her ankle unable to support her weight. Suddenly, she felt hands on her waist and she was lifted roughly and placed on the dock. The action startled her and her gaze traveled around anxiously as she found her balance. What awaited her now? What path had God placed her on? She wondered, the anxiousness she felt intensifying as her eyes drifted over her surroundings. She was distracted from that worry seconds later as someone pushed her forward and she stumbled.

Once she'd righted herself, she surveyed her surroundings again, over the men and woman on the dock and waiting on the beach. These people, like the men on the boat, were dressed in heavy furs, wool and leather. Strange images marked the skin of some as she noticed before and Ara crossed herself at the sight of the abomination, the affront to God.

Many of the men had long hair like the women. The hair, in some cases, was braided, others left it free to hang, others wore it in short, strange styles. Continuing to observe them as she waited, her eyes passed over everything around her as a helplessness settled inside her. On the crossing she'd spent almost every moment she'd been awake in prayer and thought the Lord had prepared her for this moment, but as the helplessness changed turning to an emotion akin to despair Ara found she wasn't. Pulling her mind and heart away from the dark emotion, knowing it was far too soon to lose hope, she whispered "please lord." A calm settled about her once more and she knew in that moment she could and would handle this next chapter of her life.

Something halted her thoughts and her attention, a vague sort of recognition. Her eyes snapped back to what had caught her gaze and she waited. He had been facing her when her gaze first traveled over him now he stood with his broad back to her. Her heart picked up tempo as nervous energy worked through her body, her eyes glued to the Northman as she waited. It's him, her mind stated matter of factly as her eyes traveled down the man's tall frame, starting at his long dark hair and then lower over his fur covered shoulder and the broad expanse of his back.

Another Northman stepped in front of her, effectively hiding his fellow countrymen with his own tall frame, binding her wrists tightly with leather cord and then tying the long end of the string to the Englishman in front of her. She had stiffened when he touched her but action didn't inspire fear, it may have if he even looked at her face, but he seemed to just dismiss her so it made her oddly curious until she realized she would be able to fight them if she need to. Ara continued to observe him as he finished tying her wrist, he then took the long end of the cord and tethered her to the Englishman at his waist.

When he moved away from her and Ara could see along the dock once more, she found the tall dark haired man had turned. Her heart began pounding again and the nervous energy turned into a knot in her stomach as she looked at him. It was him, she may not have recognized him if not for the scratch marks on his face at that moment he looked up from the young blond boy he was talking with and met her gaze. She saw the recognition in his eyes also and then she was being tugged forward.

Rollo quickly forgot the girl with the bright hair as he walked down the dock his gaze resting on Siggy. She stood not far from Ragnar and his family, he approached her, noting her gaze ran over the scratch marks on his face before she stepped forward. Rollo lifted his arm, tucking her tall frame against his side and accepting the warmth of her waiting lips in a brief kiss.

* * *

They were led through the town to a large wooden building, then inside all around there was activity, people rushing to and fro, some's arms laden with bundles and baskets others empty. The scene reminded Ara of the commons at the local village near her home, people busy with the tasks of daily life and in a way the scene was reassuring. She hadn't in her mind been able to think of them as people till this point. Only monsters. Seeing that they lived and worked, busying themselves with ordinary tasks made Ara feel more grounded. As if this was God's way of giving her strength. That wasn't to say she wasn't weary and afraid of whatever fate awaited her, but it some small way it gave her balance. She kept her eyes on the activity in the room as she and the others were led off to one side to the corner or the room near the main doors, it was obvious this is where they were to await whatever happened next.

Ragnar made arrangements for Leif and some of his other men to bring the gold and silver to the great hall, then walked with Lagertha and his family in that direction. His heart and mind heavy. His emotions varying between disbelief and anger. The Gods had promised this son and many more yet now they'd stolen it from him. Leaving him to wonder what he'd done to curry their disfavor.

Lagertha left Ragnar with the children after they entered the great hall and went in search of the servants, she didn't need to tell them there would be feasting tonight to celebrate Earl Ragnar's return, but there were other things to do with the feast that would need her supervision and direction. And it would give Ragnar a moment alone to absorb what had happened. When she returned to the hall, she found him standing close to the great doors, leaning against one of the great oak columns that supported the roof, his attention seemingly on the slaves they'd brought back.

But she knew that wasn't the focus of his pensive thoughts. Watching him made her own sorrow greater, they'd tried since Gyda was born for more children and finally she'd conceived. She had thought as well as Ragnar that The Gods finally answered their promise, but all they'd done was give with one hand and take with the other.

They'd favored him, making him Earl and planting his seed in her womb, only to take the child away. She knew regardless of how much she wanted to know why, she may never and it would be best to just accept that it was fated. She approached him slowly, her gaze traveling over him. She loved him more than anything, besides her children and it made her hurt to watch him in pain as it did their children. Laying a hand gently on his shoulder after she reached him, she watched as his attention came to her. He lifted one hand and placed it over hers, his gaze traveling slowly over her face before it went back to the slaves. He pulled her hand down and took it in his other, but he didn't look at her again.

She wanted to say something as her gaze followed his back to the slaves, she wanted to reassure him, they could try again, but the words hung heavy on her tongue. While the words held truth, they were the last thing she would have wanted to hear while the wound was immediately fresh.

After a moment, her eyes traveled back to Ragnar, the expression on his face was dark and sorrowful, she studied him for a moment more then her gaze drifted back to the slaves again. Absent-mindedly, looking from one face to the next, she paused when her gaze landed on a red haired girl whose face was badly discolored with bruises and several scratch marks.

"What happened to that girl?" Lagertha asked with uncharacteristic curiosity, then looked at her husband. She, like most paid very little attention to the slaves brought home on raids, but something in that bruised face and the almost stouthearted look in her pale eyes made her curious. Her eyes settled on the girl again as she awaited his reply.

"She didn't want to be captured, but Rollo had other plans," Ragnar replied. Lagertha didn't need more than Rollo's name to understand. Her gaze shifted back to Ragnar to find his piercing one on her. His eyes had changed some, the darkness had faded some from his gaze, but they still held that pained light. "Her leg is hurt also, I saw her limping as she came down the dock." He added.

"Ah." She replied with a nod of her head, "what will you do with her?"

"I'm unsure." And he was, at that moment Leif and the others began carrying the chests into the great hall, Ragnar contemplated the girl for a moment more than left thoughts of her and his dead child behind for the moment, he looked about till his eyes landed on Bjorn. He hollered his name.

"Yes, father?" Bjorn asked as he hurried closer. Ragnar reached out and affectionately tousled his son's blond hair as he said, "fetch your uncle" then walked toward his throne on the dais.

Ara watched the Northmen as they carried in several wooden chests of various sizes, at first wondering what was inside, but after a moment she decided they must contain the ransom paid for Lord Aethelwulf, King Aelle's brother. Behind the men laden with chests, others followed with cloth sacks or carrying individual items, this must be the rest of the plunder taken from her homeland.

The strange thought entered her head as she watched, from the place she occupied on the floor, that her parents really hadn't had anything worth stealing and she wondered if that's why she'd been taken. Something of some value. Immediately she saw the stupidity behind the thought, it wouldn't matter how rich her family was, taking captives was these pagans way of life. That thought and the possibilities of what that could mean sent a chill down her spine. Her gaze left the activity of the hall and traveled to the girl sitting on the floor beside her on her right. Her brown eyes were huge with fear as she stared at the floor, rocking back and forth. The other girl sat beside this one in a similar trance like state, only her terror filled eyes were fixed straight forward. Ara found herself shuddering at the fear in the girls' eyes, they seemed to reflect all the horror this new life could hold for all of them. And for a moment, it was bone chilling, Ara felt the same emotions in the girls' eyes try to take hold of her, but she quickly pushed it away. Bending her head and closing her eyes, she said another silent prayer, this one not just for personal strength, but for the strength for her and her fellow countrymen to endure. When she opened her eyes again, several minutes later, the hall was packed with men.

Rollo stood listening, his nephew standing in front of him, one bent arm resting around Bjorn's shoulders as his brother talked about the success of the raid and the dividing of riches. Siggy had confirmed his early suspicions that Lagertha had lost the baby, he'd noticed the flatness of Lagerthas stomach earlier, before he'd allowed Siggy to lead him home. It wasn't a miscarriage. Lagertha had gone into early labor and the child had been born dead, so Rollo had known before he'd come here. While he felt for both his brother and Lagertha the most of his sympathy was for her. She was a strong woman; a brave woman and she would weather this storm like she had all other's life had thrown her way. But he still didn't like the shadow that lingered in her gaze as she sat in her place beside Ragnar or the dark smudges under her eyes.

As he listened to Ragnar talk the perpetual annoyance he felt with his brother arrived chasing away the sympathy of moments ago. It angered him that Ragnar was in charge of all these decisions, they were supposed to be equals. The words had come from Ragnar's own mouth, but it didn't work that way.

Regardless of what Ragnar said, he always made the decisions, he had the say of who had what. And it became increasingly difficult for Rollo to sit back and watch as Ragnar got all the glory and fame as well as everything else Rollo wanted. That last thought had his eyes returning to Lagertha where she sat in the seat beside his brother, her eyes on Ragnar as he talked. The same words drifting through his head that always did when he thought of her. It should have been him that won her affections, he was the greater warrior, he was her equal on the battlefield and he'd seen her first. That thought led to the next, young Bjorn and his beautiful little niece Gyda as well as the child who'd just died should have been of his loins. Lagertha looked in his direction, her blue eyes meeting his green, she didn't smile as she gazed at him. She never did. It was her that looked away. Rollo watched her a moment more then he turned his attention back to his Ragnar.

A short time later, Ragnar sat leaning back in his throne, watching Rollo. His brother was laden down with three heavy satchels of gold and silver, a cloth sack full of more plunder hung from his right hand and at present stood in conversation with One Eye, a smile on his face as he talked with his friend. Ragnar's mind pondered his brother and the slave girl. The issue of the slaves had come up, but no one wanted them, so it was decided that Ragnar would sell them and divide up the profit between himself and the men. But that still left him with a question about what to do with the red haired girl. If she wasn't so banged up, he knew she'd fetch a good price with her coloring, but it wasn't worth the time it would take for her to heal in order for him to gain that profit and he doubted even with her unusual coloring she'd fetch much in her present state.

He stood catching Leif's gaze and motioned him closer then asked him to fetch the injured girl back from the barn. As he waited, he wandered around the room, keeping one eye on Rollo in case he made to leave, it didn't take long and Leif returned with the girl in tow.

Rollo looked up as he made his excuses to One Eye and paused as Leif stepped into the great hall the red haired slave limping along behind him at the end of a tether he instantly assumed Leif must have claimed her for himself. The thought quickly left him as he started for the door, again intending to go home and store his plunder then come back to collect the rest and for the feasting, but Ragnar appeared at his side and said, "Wait a minute, brother." Rollo paused looking over at the shorter man whose gaze had yet to turn to him. "Yes?" He asked.

When the tall one with the partially shaved head and strange little metal clips in his facial hair and long beard came to the barn and led her away, Ara had felt her first real rush of fear. Uncertainty wove its way through her, but as she followed him back to the great hall, a calm settled over her as she realized at least maybe she'd know her fate now. She wouldn't be left to worry as the fear grew and grew like the others. Her calm faltered slightly as the Viking led her toward her captor, her eyes drifted over his face again and she felt the fear she'd felt as he chased her settle around her again. His gaze wasn't on her, he looked at the shorter blond man with the tattoos on his head that stood beside him. She willed the fear away as the shorter man spoke.

"You take the girl." Ragnar said as he watched Leif approach, not bothering to look at Rollo. Maybe if he made Rollo take her he'd learn something from this. "She's injured and of very little use to me." Rollo's spine stiffened first in disbelief and then in anger at the words and tone of his brother's voice as if Ragnar was passing judgment on him for her condition. Sometimes slaves got hurt, especially, when they tried to escape like this girl had and usually if that happened and they were worthless they were killed. His gaze left Ragnar and traveled to the girl, immediately noticing the brightness of her coloring again. Her large pale green eyes peered at them from her bruised face, wearily, as if she knew at this very moment they were discussing her fate.

"Her coloring is odd enough I'd think she'd bring a good price." Rollo reasoned, his gaze coming back to his brother who still wasn't looking at him.

Ragnar nodded his head conceding the point that she most likely would if not for her present state. "That would be true if she wasn't lame and marked up." Rollo's spine stiffened more, hearing accusation in his brother's voice again. "What am I supposed to do with her? " Rollo questioned, his own voice acidic in tone.

"I don't know, take her home clean her up, let her heal then sell her?" Ragnar suggested, his gaze on the small woman with uncommon hair, "she may still fetch a good price brother." Irritated, Rollo's gaze turned to his unwanted possession again. What in helheim was he supposed to do with her? But Ragnar was right, Rollo knew this, it only added to the irritation he felt. She was useless, he'd seen himself that she struggled with her ankle as she walked and he wasn't a nurse maid. But he also knew Ragnar had dictated again and he didn't have a choice in the matter unless he wanted to fight with his brother. At the moment, the thought was unappealing for many different reasons and he wouldn't have to take care of her himself, Siggy could do it.

He approached the girl, his eyes traveling over her small frame, his annoyance growing when his gaze came back to her face and she didn't look away. It was apparent she also needed to learn her place. A small amount of satisfaction filled him when he reached her and his hand took the end of the tether attached to her collar. Her eyes widened slightly and she flinched.

Being led like a dog Ara followed him as best she could, limping on her uncooperative ankle. Humiliation over being treated as such and fear over what would happen to her next radiating through her body. He led her out the great double doors of the building, her eyes traveling down his tall person as she struggled to keep up with his long strides. Even though, she couldn't understand the words that were spoken between the dark haired man leading her and the smaller blond man with the braids she was fairly certain she understood.

She belonged to this man now.

The very idea filled her with dread. He'd looked angry as the smaller man and he had talked and she heard the biting tone of his voice. He wasn't pleased, that Ara knew. He hurried his pace, not leaving Ara with a second to think about anything but keeping her feet under her. Her foot caught and she stumbled, painfully, not falling to the ground, but coming close. She righted herself and looked up through the tangle of hair that had fallen over her face to find he'd paused and now looked back at her, his gaze conveying that his patience was wearing thin.

Ara reached up and brushed the hair from her face with her bound hands and lifted her chin, holding his gaze directly, unwilling to show the fear or cower, despite the annoyed light his eyes held. His eyes stayed locked with hers for a moment more than he turned and yanked cruelly on the lead once more that was attached to the hated collar they placed on her earlier. Ara managed to keep up with him, mostly because they didn't go much farther and they were in front of small wooden structure and he was opening its door and leading her inside.

Siggy sat by the fire, needle in hand, mending a small hole in the seam of one of her gowns, waiting for Rollo to return from talking with Ragnar. Normally, she'd have thrown her clothes away long before they reached a point of tearing, but there was much she used to do differently. The state of her life at present was a constant source of irritation, so far reduced from what it once been she would laugh if she didn't find it so pathetic. She, the wife of the late Earl Haraldson, reduced to doing servant's work, mending her clothes and cooking her own meals. Those weren't the only loathsome changes in her life, she had no servants and her present home, while better than most of the village homes, was a hovel compared to where she'd resided before. She still visited her former home when she went to tend to the Lady Lagertha and her children. It had nearly killed her to approach Lagertha and ask to serve her and her family. But Siggy knew even with Rollo's protection, her standing could become shaky at a moment's notice and it was best to make herself close to the family.

So she was forced to pretend to care for Earl Ragnar's wishes and his family and put up with Rollo's self-centered and by times almost petulant behavior just to have this. Even though she'd been able to feel for Lagertha in her recent loss, the loss of a child wasn't something she would wish on any mother, some part of her found a certain satisfaction in it. After all Siggy herself had lost and all Lagertha had gained in some small way it made the personal blow Siggy had felt soften slightly. Rollo, the stupid man had looked for a moment as though it was his own child Lagertha had carried as Siggy had told him what happened. If she didn't know that was impossible she may have questioned it, Rollos feeling for Ragnars wife were more than obvious to Siggy, but she also knew Lagertha loved only one man. But if Rollo ever received the least bit of encouragement from the blond shield maiden he'd run off with her, consequences be damned.

Suddenly, the door flew open and Rollo stepped inside, halting her thoughts, she quickly righted the mask she was always careful to maintain in his presence. He was after all her best chance to be someone again. She stood to greet him as he entered, laying her mending on the bench she'd just risen from. Her smile faltering slightly when she looked up noticed he wasn't alone.

Her gaze traveled in askance between Rollo and the bedraggled creature standing behind him, she eyed the girl's collar and the tether Rollo held in his hand for a moment before her gaze came back to him.

Rollo saw the questioning look Siggy gave him. At the moment, it added to the irritation he already felt, when her gaze came back to his, he moved past her, leading the girl by her tether and gave no explanation, he moved toward the fire and dropped the lead, stretching his hands out over the flames in an attempt to warm them.

Siggy watched Rollo move past her, recognizing the stubborn look on his face. He had no plans of explaining anything, so if she wanted to know, she'd have to ask. Her gaze left him and moved to the girl again, noting the bruises and welts marring her face. She was distracted from her face when she noticed the limp, her eyes traveled down the tattered grey dress the girl wore to where its skirt concealed her injured ankle. Questions filled her head about how the girl had ended up as she was and why Rollo had brought her home. Her gaze continued to watch the girl as she limped behind Rollo, stopping several feet away, her mind deciding what question she would ask. She knew as irritated as Rollo appeared, she'd better pick the most important first or the temperamental man would leave with no explanation.

Before she could decide how to proceed, Rollo turned, not looking at her, and fixed his gaze on the door as he began to move with purpose toward it.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"Out." He replied, his tone biting, but he paused and met her gaze.

"What am I supposed to do with her?" Siggy asked incredulously. Sometimes it was hard for her to remember why she was here with him. "Fix her up." He replied, the tone of his voice was designed to make her feel stupid, but in reality, it only irritated her.

"I'm not your servant to command, Rollo." Siggy reminded him, irritation lacing her voice. The darkening of his eyes reminded her that her hastily spoken words would only increase his anger.

"This is woman's work and you are a woman." With that, he turned and walked toward the door again. "Wait a minute," Siggy said, trying to sound contrite as she hurried after him. She reached him as he reached the door. He paused and looked down at her, "when will you be back?" Siggy asked.

"When I feel like it." His voice more than imparting the fact he didn't believe she had the right to question him. With that, he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Siggy stood by the door a moment, her hand laying against the rough planks, breathing deeply, sometimes putting up with that vain, entitled man didn't seem worth any possible gain she could receive in the future. She had to remind herself in the end he was her best chance for status again. She looked over her shoulder and saw the girl standing close to the fire, her gaze on her. With an exasperated sigh, she turned her attention to the door once again and opened it, stopping a boy who was running by and asked him to run to great hall and fetch the priest. Someone needed to be able to communicate with her.

* * *

**And another Authors note: I would now like to explain why I've written Rollo as I have. I know it's a harsh look at him, ( and maybe not a popular one) but where I've started this story, directly at the end of A Kings Ransom we are starting to see him at his worst... After his baptism and every thing that happens in England.**

**But don't worry I promise to show his redemption as well! **


	4. Chapter 3

**Hey guys sorry about the wait on this chapter.. I'm having a harder time writing this than I had anticipated and I am thinking its because it's a new fandom and I'm getting used to all the new characters...**

**And again, thanks so much for all the support on this story! You guys are so great!**

* * *

Ara watched his tall back and fur covered shoulders as he stepped out the door, the tension she'd felt in the air about her as he talked to the dark-haired woman almost instantly disintegrated, her muscles relaxed. The woman waited a moment, and then looked at Ara one more time, the look on her face more than displaying her vexation than stepped out the door herself, leaving Ara completely alone and with no idea what she was supposed to do.

As she waited, uncertainty churning in her stomach, she thought about the conversation she'd just witnessed. She'd watched them, nervously, and again she didn't need to understand the words to understand he was not pleased with this situation. The woman for her part seemed confused and maybe a little shocked. She had eyed Ara once or twice as they talked, but that was it, he hadn't looked at her once after they entered the house and Ara was glad to have his attention focused on something or someone besides her.

Siggy stepped back inside, closing the door behind her; she turned her gaze alighting on the girl. She hadn't moved from the place she had stood when Siggy went outside, she paused, her gaze running over her critically as she tried to make sense of this latest development in her life. She knew Rollo therefore she knew he hadn't brought this girl home with him to be a helpmate for her. Really, that notion was quite laughable; Rollo generally thought so much of himself there wasn't room for thoughts of others. No, there was something more going on here. The girl had injuries and more so than just bruises and scrapes, she was lame also and it made her curiosity grow.

She moved closer, stopping by the fire, her eyes assessing the slave. She was short in stature, and her long hair hung in stringy clumps about her bruised face and slight shoulders. Siggy held her pale gaze for a moment, and then her eyes drifted lower over the rest of her person. She was small, but not to the point of being frail, actually size notwithstanding, she looked capable. Siggy's gaze shifted back to the girls face as an idea took form in her head and she knew; she knew she was right before the thought had even fully formed. Rollo was responsible for her injuries. It went without saying even if his mood hadn't been dark he hadn't brought the slave home of his own violation. That left only one possible reason. Ragnar... But why? Slaves were sometimes hurt it just happened, so why would Ragnar send the girl home with his brother? Unless... Unless Rollo had done something on this trip that made Ragnar irritated with him again.

The relief of moments ago quickly dissolved after the dark-haired woman stepped back inside and proceeded to eye her appraisingly. Her cool, dark gaze making Ara feel as though she was being weighed and measured, to calculate her worth. When her eyes finally met Ara's it was as though she really wasn't looking at Ara but pondering some question. Ara tried to maintain eye contact and not show her discomfort, but there was something about being looked over like one would look at a piece of like livestock that had Aras gaze dropping away from the other womans blatant appraisal of her person. After a moment the woman's eyes left her face and traveled down Ara, of a sudden they snapped back and she looked as though the pieces of some great puzzle were beginning to come together in her head. She looked at Ara a moment more than, her attention left her, and she turned away and began to move about the room. Seemingly, dismissing all thoughts of Ara or her presence in the room. Ara had no idea what to do as she watched the other woman; it made her more uncomfortable as she stood there in the same place she had since she'd been led inside. A short time later there was a knock at the door.

* * *

It was a world of a strange and terrifying beauty Athelstan now found himself a part of. These people were more alive than any other he'd encountered in all his travels and it wasn't just the people themselves it was the world in which they lived. Everything seemed to breathe with the same life force as if everything was somehow connected to the things around it, like the roots of the tree grew directly from the center of the mountain and they were one. The colors seemed more vibrant in this world, laughter seemed more hearty, the sense of self they possessed more real.

He had found there was something both noble and ignoble about these people. Some had a regal air and bearing about them that would rival any King or Queen. Fierce in their pride and sense of who they were, they lived inside of a sense of destiny and purpose that Athelstan had never encountered before. Despite their brutal and ungodly ways, sometimes it was hard for him to remember that they were savages a heathen race that believed themselves superior to all others. That belief led to the next belief that it was their right and why they existed; to conquer all races inferior in strength to them. They believed completely and without question that while Odin the Allfather had created all of mankind, their God Heimdall or Rig had created the three separate classes of people. Slave first, farmers and laborers next and then the noble race. He'd achieved this by entering three different households and sleeping in bed between husband and wife, the next morning he left and nine months later a male child was born. In each instance the male child found a mate and fathered a class of people.

He saw that belief for what it's was false. Just as all their Gods were false idols he knew these things to be true. He knew there was only one God, but the longer he was with the Northmen; he began to feel the presence of their Gods himself. He felt their presence through these people, it was difficult not to begin to understand or at least respect the depth with which their believers believed. Their faith, as evident in the lives of these people as Christ's light in the most devout of Christian hearts.

And he had come to care for the lives of Earl Ragnar, his wife and his children, despite, the mantle of slave; he suffered under them and the untimely deaths of his fellow monks at the hands of their people.

He'd felt the death of Ragnar's unborn son as keenly as if had been the child of one of his brothers or sisters. He knew how deeply both Lagertha and Ragnar had wanted this child and it had pained him to see Lagertha suffer through the loss of her child alone.

He made his way to the dwelling Rollo and Siggy shared, his heart heavy, his mind overflowing with the events that had just passed. The much anticipated return of Ragnar and his men had come and all of his people had waited excitedly for the tales of conquest and to see the riches that would most surely accompany them. Athelstan had waited with mixed emotion, hoping for the safe return of his friend, but also fearing what it may bring. His happiness over Ragnar and the others safe return, at first only diminished by the news that would greet his friend, but when he saw the war bad disembark from their ships and realized what he'd prayed against had happened, that had changed. Ragnar had returned with not only a large amount of riches, but more slaves as well.

He'd stood and watched unmoving as the Northmen led his fellow countrymen down the dock. He'd seen the fear evident in their ashen faces. He remembered that terror all too well, it had writhed in the pit of his stomach that day so long ago and watching these unfortunate souls had brought the sensation back so keenly he had to breathe in sharply through his nose and out through his mouth to calm his churning stomach. The turmoil in his stomach intensifying as the next reality sunk in, there were woman amongst these new captives and he knew whatever happened to them it would be much worse than that of the men. His mind stayed heavily laden with worry over their fates since that moment and continued as he arrived at Siggy's door.

He reached out, hesitating for a moments before knocking on the plank door in front of him as his thought continued further still. He'd been in the great hall and watched as Leif led the girl back inside, confused at first he'd silently questioned if Leif was claiming the girl for his own. And he couldn't help but see that as a much kinder fate than the one that awaited her as events began to unfold and the true nature of the girl's presence in the hall revealed itself, he'd watched in trepidation and disbelief. Ragnar was forcing the girl into his brothers keeping. Rollo must have done something more than just hurt the girl to anger his brother enough for Ragnar to force her off on him and Rollo was not happy about. The slave girl was the only thing that could account for Siggy's summons.

* * *

Ara watched the newcomer, his gaze alighting briefly on her as he stepped inside and exchanged words with the woman. After a time his full attention turned to her and he moved toward her, his brow heavy, his gaze troubled.

Athelstan turned his full attention to the girl, his eyes meeting hers, their paleness of color noticeable even in the shadows surrounding her and he could see a shadow of trepidation clouding them.

"I am Athelstan." He offered; the sound of her native tongue surprised her, and her shock must have shown in her face because some of the heaviness left his feature and eyes. "What is your name?" He asked, when he next spoke. "Ara." She answered after a moment.

"How is it you speak my language?" She asked as he finished his approach. The heaviness returned to his brow and that troubled shadow in his brown gaze grew. He opened his mouth as if to speak and paused, his mouth falling closed for a moment before he spoke. "I am like you."

"English?" He nodded his head, his gaze grew lighter for a half a second, but the troubled look came back as quickly as it left. Athelstan turned his gaze traveled back to Siggy, to find her eyes on him, the trouble creasing his brow growing, he really didn't want to stand here and look this girl in the eye and tell her what Siggy expected of her. Every part of his being fought against it and made his tongue heavy. Siggy eyed him expectantly from the place she still occupied close to the door, like what she expected of him wasn't what it was.

He didn't answer the one word question Ara had just uttered, instead he turned his attention to the woman, "This is Siggy...She is your..." His voice drifted off, and her eyes moved toward Siggy. Ara finished where it would seem words failed him, "my owner." He gave a slight nod and his troubled gaze left Siggy and returned to Ara, a part of him grateful Ara had finished that part for him, it made it easier for him to continue, "in part, yes," he began. His gaze dropped from hers again and he paused, still struggling with his words. When finally he spoke again, he said, "but the man...Rollo...he's who actually owns you."

Ara blanched and her heart began to race at the conformation of what she already knew, her gaze dropped completely away, her eyes went to the hard packed dirt floor. Rollo. Her mind said, somehow having the name that went with the monster made this feel much more real. That inner voice came back, whispering softly, be brave Ara, even as fear coiled in her stomach. She would be brave, she reminded herself, she had no choice. But that knowledge didn't stop the question in her mind from slipping from her tongue as she took a shaky breath and lifted her gaze to his once more.

Athelstan watched her eyes widen and drop from his, the color draining from her face, despite the bruises covering it. Her gaze lifted back to his after a moment, "What will happen to me?" She asked directly, holding his gaze, given the way she looked at him he felt certain the question pertained more to what she should expect from Rollo, not the general sense of what her chores would be and it was his turn to turn a pasty white. He couldn't make himself answer.

His brown gaze clouded over again, his face going pale as if he didn't want to answer, his mouth opened and then quickly shut and he looked away. But that look spoke more than any words ever could and Ara felt her stomach drop. When he did speak it wasn't to answer her question, it was a complete misdirection. "How badly are you injured?" His now open reluctance to answer made her stomach coil tighter. She wanted to say, just tell me, but didn't instead saying, "I twisted my ankle badly and there's a deep cut on my hand." The latter, she extended toward him, face up, to reveal a long deep gash, ringed in an angry red. Athelstan's brow furrowed more, she should see a healer, he thought as he looked to Siggy once more, but he knew that wouldn't happen. Siggy's expectant look was fading to one of irritation as she met Athelstan's gaze. No doubt she wanted none of this and would prefer to go to the great hall and join in the celebration.

His gaze returned to Ara, finally pushing the words out Siggy wanted him to convey, "She wants you to keep the fire going while they go to the feast, and in the morning you will expected to be up before them. They will want the fire built up. They will go about the first two hours of their day then expect breakfast. Your... Siggy will give you other chores."

Ara nodded as she held his gaze. "Have you told her what she needs to know?" Siggy's voice interjected expectantly. Athelstan nodded his head as his gaze moved back to her; Siggy gave him an appreciative look and said "Well then, I will be off."

"Is there food she could eat?" Siggy gave him an odd look and Athelstan added quickly so as not to make her mad, "I'm sure she hasn't eaten in days." He had to ask, he knew it was likely that she hadn't eaten since before her capture. Whatever food they'd had on the boats for the return voyage would've been consumed by Ragnar's men and she was going to need her strength.

* * *

Despite the furs Ara lay huddled inside of and the fire, she lay next to she couldn't seem to feel warm. Exhausted in both body and spirit, she had felt a wide range of emotions settle around her after the woman named Siggy and the Englishman left.

She'd taken Athelstan's advice and eaten the food she'd been given, it wasn't much, not even as much as her youngest sister Sibley would eat at once, and it had hurt her stomach as food was want to do after days without it. After her stomach quieted, she cleaned and bandaged her wounds as best she could, tearing strips of material from her shift. She bond her ankle and wrapped her hand. Then she'd sat staring into the fire in a trance like state, her mind drifting. Part of her wanted to run. Run as far and as fast as she could, but even if her ankle wasn't injured how far could she get and what other fate could she meet. She wasn't likely to meet with any kindness in this harsh place, she knew nothing of the countryside, she'd either die from exposure, be taken by another or... Her thought's stopped as a vision of him chasing her down again filled her head. She pushed the image and the thoughts away, knowing that path would only lead her to despair.

She turned her mind instead to sisters. Maybe not a better choice of thought, but she could take comfort in the fact the road that had led her here, had been one of protection for them. She made her picture them alive and well, refusing the truth that she didn't know what had happened to them after she ran, when that denial stopped working she turned her mind to the Englishman. Who he was and where he come from, she realized rather quickly he was most likely from Lindisfarne, but thoughts of him soon gave way to thoughts of her sisters once more and then her parents and Bram. She'd knelt down on the floor and spoke to God. It wasn't a prayer as much a one word that summed up everything she felt. Please. She chanted that one simple word over and over again. Please, that her sisters were all right; please, that Bram was with them and please that she would somehow find the will to keep the strength God had given her, even in the face of the uncertainty before her. As she stayed there, kneeling on the earthen floor, its coolness seeped into her bones and for the first time since this hopeless ordeal had begun she cried.

It was late by the time they had returned, Ara had stood quickly from her place by the fire as they'd entered. He was first through the door and his dark gaze made a cursory sweep of the room as he made his way through it, then he disappeared into the curtained area at the back of the house. The woman didn't spare her much attention either, she'd disappeared behind the same sheer curtain only to step back out again a moment later with a rolled up fur in her arms which she then proceeded to drop on the ground close to where Ara stood. She said something Ara could not understand then disappeared once more.

Here she lay unable to sleep no matter how desperately her body wanted it, every sound; every noise of them behind the curtain, no matter how small startled her. After a few minutes she realized what those noises were as they began to grow in volume. Ara squeezed her eyes closed and wiggled closer to the fire, glad it separated her from them. She tugged on the furs she lay wrapped in until they covered her head, and she focused on the snapping of the fire.

Rollo watched the girl, his irritation rising. He'd returned near ten minutes ago for his morning meal and he was still waiting, from his place sitting by the fire his gaze stalked her every move as she went about preparing his food. At the moment, the sight of her limp made his irritation worsen, reminding him exactly why she was here. He did know as he sat there waiting that there wasn't any leftover stew or meat from last night's meal for her to give him this morning, but he ignored the fact, instead letting his temper flare. Really, how difficult of a task was for her to fix him a plate of cheese, bread and salted meat and have it waiting for him when he came to eat. He made a slight noise of disgust, his eyes traveling down her back, over the tousled, dirty hair that hung about her shoulders and the torn and equally filthy dress she wore, the entire situation left him in a foul temper and angry with Ragnar. He'd been informed by his brother last night once he'd eventually returned to the great hall that, not only, was he being forced to take the girl, Ragnar was taking her value from the gold and silver Rollo had been given. Ragnar had dealt that announcement as if it was the most innocuous of subjects, announcing it in front of all. Rollo's hand had tightened around the cup in his hand, his earlier anger coming back to life and he'd wanted to argue, but Siggy's hand had settled on his thigh under the table and squeezed he'd glanced down at her and saw the censors look in her eyes, so he'd bitten his tongue. Someday his brother would get what he deserved. Someday he'd see he needed to treat him with respect and not as a child.

Ara could feel him watching her, his gaze heavy where it rested on her back. All of his behavior, she had witnessed thus far told her he was not a man she wanted to anger, but at present she had little choice. Her leg, while better for her inactivity last night, wasn't like normal and every step she took was a halting one. The woman had led Ara to a pile of clothing this morning after he left and motioned for her to pick it up, and then led her to a large cast iron kettle over a fire pit behind the house. Subsequently, Ara had spent most of her time after waking, building a fire and carrying water from a nearby well to fill the cauldron. The woman only came and fetched her a few minutes ago than directed her toward the food, her annoyance obvious. But as obvious as the woman's annoyance was his was more so, it was palpable, it hung in the room around her growing larger with every second it took Ara to prepare his food.

Siggy turned her gaze to the girl, Rollo was losing patience quickly. Actually, she felt some amazement he'd kept it this long and maybe she should help the girl, just to save an outburst of temper on Rollo's part, but it was best the girl learn her place now. The issues began the moment he'd awoken; the girl was still asleep, curled up in heap under her furs close to fire, the fire that wasn't built up. Instead of waking the girl himself he'd gone straight back to their room and told her to get the girl up. Really, how hard was it to nudge the girl with his foot and wake her himself and now he looked ready to explode.


	5. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! I'm sorry about the lengthy wait... Usually I'm way quicker than I've been with this story so far, but with this last chapter I've had a lot going on, just know I will endevour to update more often from here on out! This's chapter is just filler, nothing really happens but after this things start to move forward I promise! Hope you all enjoy!**

**And as usual, thank you all so much for the support! You guys make my day!**

**And a special thanks to my Denmark friend, you are amazing and making all this so much easier! **

* * *

Bram stood in the opening to the small alcove watching Bree and Sibley sleep. Anger, disbelief and guilt churning inside him. Anger that the heathens hadn't just left, sailed to open water leaving the inhabitants that lived along the river be. After all, they'd gotten their two thousand pounds of gold and silver. Disbelief that his family had been amongst those attacked and guilt that if he'd been there he could have somehow saved them warred with guilt for not coming as soon as they'd learned of the attacks.

His young sisters were still terrified when Bram arrived today, Sibley who had always been shy of him clung to his side and Bree acted distant.

Word of what had happened to his family didn't reach Bram for two days. They'd received the news that Northmen had raided a few farms on the way down river and he'd wanted to go and check on his family, but life as a soldier in Aelle's army meant he didn't have the choice of just leaving. So he'd reminded himself that sometimes no news was the best news. Trying to take comfort in the knowledge that you couldn't see the small cabin his family inhabited from the river and that he knew his father to be an intelligent man, Bram felt certain he'd take precautions. Then word came from Aras betrothed Mannox Fletcher. Bram's parents were dead and Mannox had Bram's sisters with him and his children. He lived a league inland from the river so the Northmen hadn't made it to his farm. Mannox had failed to tell Bram in the message he sent that Ara wasn't with him only telling him after he arrived. As Mannox revealed the tale, though he didn't know everything that happened. He said Ara hid his her sisters in the brush than drew the Northman away, Mannox and other nearby farmers had checked the woods for some distance around and there was no sign of her anywhere.

* * *

Ara reached up tugging at the neck of her dress, the plain un-dyed wool irritated her sensitive skin she found yesterday as shed toiled, washing their laundry. It only worsened when she perspired as she was now, but at this moment it wasn't because the room was overly warm or that she labored at some arduous task; it was all due to him.

Presently he sat across the room from her at a small crude table, his back to her eating his morning meal, conversing with the dark-haired woman, they both appeared oblivious to her presence. At fact for which Ara felt grateful.

Athelstan had told her their names, but every part of Aras being refused to use them. These Northmen may live in houses but she still looked at them as little more than beasts of the field. In some ways she saw them is less than that, for she had named the animals her family kept on occasions.

At present she watched them from the shadows on the other side of the room, his voice rumbled through the space around them as he spoke with his foreign words.

Yesterday morning when she had finally gotten his food, she'd known he was annoyed, the heat of his gaze on her back more than conveyed it and she'd tried to hurry when she brought his plate, but her uncooperative ankle had given out and she fallen and his food had ended up in his lap.

Ara had quickly scrambled to her feet as he stood abruptly, the contemptuous look on his face thoroughly conveyed his thoughts. Her heart had began to race at that dark anger she'd found in his gaze and she been certain he would hit her. He lifted his hand marginally and her heart pounded against her ribs as he took one menacing step toward her, glowering down at her. Her body stiffened, bracing itself for the blow she thought for certain would come.

She hadn't known the woman had risen as she stood there holding his gaze. The chilling anger in his eyes held her rapt attention, making it impossible for Ara look away, until she felt a hand grab her arm and yank on it cruelly. Aras attention shifted to her as the dark haired-woman barked out words, a command of some sort Ara felt certain. But He moved suddenly and brought Aras attention back to him, but when her eyes alighted on his face this time he wasn't looking at her. His anger was still visible as he moved past her and stalked toward the door, he yanked it open as he went then he was gone, leaving the door he'd thrown open to bang against its frame.

The woman tugged Aras arm sharply once more and gestured at the food on the floor with the toe of her shoe and she barked out more of her foreign words again than she dropped Aras arm and left also. Ara had cleaned up the mess as quickly as she could, dropping the dirt covers food into the fire, then set about the chore of laundry she'd been given earlier.

The woman came back a short time later, obviously angered, she left again a short time later, this time when she came back, she thrust the itchy clothes Ara now wore in her hands. Once Ara changed, the woman took her ruined dress and threw it onto the fire. The dress was torn and soiled beyond salvation, but as Ara watched it burn she found herself feeling more vulnerable than she had at any moment previous to this. As if, somehow, her ruined dress had been a shield or her last real tie to her home and who she was. Chiding herself, for the emotions churning in her stomach, she told herself it was silly to put that much importance on one ruined dress, that her real tie to who she was and home lay in her faith and her memories, but it helped little.

Ara didn't see him again until late last night after he and his woman returned from the great hall and then he hadn't even seemed to notice her in the room, like this morning he appeared oblivious to her presence.

* * *

Athelstan had been going about his business when he first saw Lagertha and Siggy in conversation. It wasn't uncommon to happen across such a scene, they often conversed as they went about the work of weaving cloth and at first he didn't pay them any attention really. He wasn't in the habit of eavesdropping on private conversations, but today, unable to help himself, he listened, hoping Siggy would mention Ara. He had seen the other slaves yesterday, they'd been given duties about the great hall, he wondered if that would be a permanent thing. Slaves came and went rather quickly sometimes, some traded off, others taken to the slave markets Athelstan had heard of since coming here, but had thankfully never seen. He learned early on that he could have it so much worse and had thanked God many times that he'd thus far been spared the fate of his fellow monks.

He'd spent much time since Ragnar returned day before yesterday contemplating the fates that could await his fellow Englishmen, hoping since the men weren't priest that their lives would be spared and they'd be sold as farm laborers. That was really the kindest fate they could expect, but the women; the women were an entirely different thing. He'd seen how some Northmen used their female slaves, lower than dogs really. They raped them; they beat them and it always left a foul taste in his mouth. Mistreatment of any woman went against the very grain of what Athelstan had been taught, but these new women weren't from neighboring villages, they didn't share the same God or customs.

He hated the mistreatment of any woman, it went against ever ideal and teaching Athelstan held close, knowing these Englishwomen would share in that fate felt much worse. As Christian women they were the children of a peaceful God; a loving God and a civilized culture. They weren't in any way prepared or equip to deal with the harshness this new reality would bring, but at least he could see the others since they'd been given jobs, but Ara he hadn't and he feared what could possibly happen to her at Rollo's hands. Rollo didn't want her, but Ragnar had given him little choice and her injured state would naturally bother Athelstan in any circumstance, but it bothered him more knowing she was alone and subject to Rollo's whims. Rollo seemed to perpetually fester with unhappiness of late and he wasn't disposed to patience in any form even on his best days, so being strapped with an injured slave he most certainly didn't want wasn't going to make him anymore inclined to it now and that worried Athelstan. Yesterday he'd hoped Siggy would call for him again so he could have an excuse to see her and slip her some salve for the infected cut on her hand and her ankle. He knew that plan was foolhardy, even considering giving her aid could put him in a lot of trouble if he was found out, but if the infection in her hand reached her blood she could die. And if her ankle went unattended and she continued to limp she'd eventually be seen as burdensome even if she wasn't.

He was so lost in thought it only vaguely registered when Lagertha said his name the first time, the second time he left his thoughts behind and his gaze quickly lifted to her. "Can I help you Athelstan?" She asked her look expectant. "No," he answered quickly, his gaze darting from her to Siggy than back again. Lagertha gave him a curious look as Athelstan made a hasty excuse for his presence incase they questioned if he'd been standing there to listen or not and hurried off.

* * *

There you are, Gyda said to herself as she stepped from behind the curtain at the back of the great hall to see Athelstan hurrying out the door, she watched a moment than followed after him. She'd been with her father and Bjorn watching as her father trained with her brother, using wooden swords. Hoping she'd be given a turn to work with her father. But as usual, Bjorn took precedence in such things so she'd known the chances weren't likely she'd get the opportunity. At first she'd been content to just watch, and wait hoping Bjorn would grow tired, but after a time she'd grown bored and decided to go in search of The Priest.

Hurrying across the hall and out the door, she spotted him on the crowd and continued to along quickly till she was close. Slowing her pace and sneaking along the last few feet, a mischievous smile slipped onto her lips, she hurried behind a market table than jumped out in front of him. "where are you going?" She asked, happily noting the way Athelstan eyes widened in surprise, she smiled slightly.

After he recovered from the surprise of her just appearing in front of him, his feature softened and an almost smile played about his lips. Truly smiling was something he didn't do in this new life, not really, but sometimes this young wisp of a girl made him feel like it. Quiet, gentle and generally reserved she appeared a little lady, but she also had a mischievous side that he glimpsed once in a while. His happiness at seeing her quickly disappeared, however, when he remembered her question. He had no idea what to say, then decided the truth or partial truth was best. "To see a friend."

She stepped in line beside him, obviously planning to go with him. And Athelstan's hand tightened around the small urn of salve he held, going to check on Ara and give her salve was one thing if he was alone, taking Gyda along with him on his secret mission was another. The tension he felt grew as he saw Lagertha and Siggy approaching them from further down the market stalls, a basket on Siggy's arm. He felt the color drain from his face as he watched the two women who'd yet to see them, he'd thought them still at the great hall, the proof that they weren't made him even more nervous about this undertaking. Gyda called to her mother as Athestan tried to figure out how to remove himself from his present situation, but it failed. Lagertha looked up and saw them and he knew he was caught, he couldn't just walk off so he waited. He tried to maintain a show of calm, but felt his cheeks redden slightly despite his efforts. He made a hasty excuse that he'd forgotten something and hurried off.

Lagertha smiled faintly at the sound of her daughter's voice and lifted her head, her gaze traveling between Athelstan and Gyda than her attention went back to the stack of cloth on the table in front of her for a moment before she approached her daughter, her gaze following Athelstan's retreating back.

The sound of a knock on the door startled Ara, uncertain of what or who could be waiting on the other side, she stood from the furs she'd been cleaning and began to move across the room, her slowness of pace not all to do with her ankle. When she reached the door, she waited a moment, hesitant to open it when her hand finally went to the rough plank surface she opened it slowly. When she found the Englishman standing there the trepidation she felt evaporated somewhat. But as her gaze traveled over his face, curiously, and she noted the same struggle in his heavy brow and countenance she'd seen two days ago, her unease came back.

Neither said anything for a moment as their gazes held, his obvious struggle making Ara feel uncertain and a certain awkwardness settle heavily around them. After a minute he finally spoke. "I brought you something," extending his hand and drawing Aras gaze to the small wooden pot, covered in cloth. Surprised Ara looked at in askance as she reached for it, "it's a salve for your wounds." Athelstan explained quietly.

His voice brought her attention back to his face, but he wasn't looking at her, his own gaze traveled around warily. "Thank you." Ara found herself saying as she lifted the object from his hand.

Athelstan heard her words of thanks, but the customary you're welcome didn't follow, instead, he said as he looked at her, "hide it." Trying to impart with his eyes how important it was for neither Rollo or Siggy to find it.

Ara nodded her head, but said nothing, suddenly understanding the potential personal risk Athelstan took by doing this for her. "I best go," he said as his eyes made another sweep of their surroundings. Ara just nodded as his attention came back to her. He turned to leave and paused, looking back at her, his heavy gaze traveled over her face, one of his greatest worries for her safety voicing itself. "Be careful not to anger Rollo." He said holding her gaze and trying once again to impart how serious it was that she heard his words with his gaze and then he was gone.


	6. Chapter 5

**Authors note: where to begin?! I know it's been nearly a year since my last update and I am sorry. Other projects, life and the loss of my muse or more a replanning of my storyline got in the way. Anyway, I am back and hope all of you that have shown interest in the past still are!**

**I'd like to apologize to those of you who've left encouraging review while I went through this process and I've sent pms promising an update. Again, I'm sorry it took so long.**

**One more thing. I know this chapter is most likely have a few mistakes, but I won't be able to spend much time with it over the next week and I didn't want to wait after how longs it's been!**

* * *

**Four days later.**

* * *

Ara carefully trudged through the mud left from three days of continuous rain, her arms laden down with damp fir wood for the fire burning in the pit within the house, the sounds of animals and the village filling her ears. The sodden hem of her dress, clung to her ankles and lower calves, tangling around them and making her task that much more difficult. On her next step, she lost her footing in the gooey mud and slipped slightly, the arm load of wood she carried shifted and she nearly fell as hot pain radiated up her ankle. Biting down on her lip hard, she managed to hold onto the firewood as she steadied herself then lifted her foot from the ground a little, gingerly wiggling her toes and moving her ankle as she waited for the pain to pass. While better after a few days use of the salve Athelstan brought her, her ankle wasn't quite right but this was the first real pain she'd had in a day or two. Putting her foot down, she carefully began to move forward again. There was twinge of pain with her first step, but nothing compared to the jarring one of her last.

She had quickly applied the salve to both her hand and ankle after Athelstan had given it to her than not knowing what else to to do she hid the small jar inside of the furs she slept in the previous two nights. At the time she'd been uncertain how frequently she'd be able to use it, but in the coming days she had found herself alone more often than not. In all moments of this new life fear threatened her and at times nearly gave way to despair. She spent much of those solitary times in prayer, uncertain how it would be received if she was found kneeling, she prayed as she stumbled through her chores. She prayed for her family, the others who found themselves in this new life like her and herself. Still, she Frequently had to remind herself this was just a trial of her flesh and that this was God's will and that all things worked for his glory. She took whatever comfort she found in those things and focused on the tasks at hand, trying to keep her mind occupied. Her sisters and brother entered her thoughts frequently, threatening whatever succor she found in prayer and at work with the despairing knowledge that she would likely never see them again. In those moments she turned her thoughts away, often to Athelstan and the knowledge that she wasn't completely alone. Thoughts of the man with kind eyes filled her with questions and she found herself focusing more and more on them.

How long had he been here? If he was in fact from Lindisfarne was he a monk or a priest as well as many others, but none seemed as important as when she'd see him again.

In the moments she wasn't alone the dark-haired woman would bark orders at her that Ara couldn't understand then grow exasperated because she had to show her what she wanted then she would leave. They repeated this process several times a day. The man always seemed to simmer with anger as far as Ara could see, but as far as Ara herself was concerned he still appeared oblivious to her continued presence. That was something she felt certain she didn't want to change. Self-preservation and fear for her future along with Athelstan's words of warning that she should try not to anger the brute made her all the more cautious.

Not wanting to repeat the same events of her first morning here she'd made sure she was up and had the fire burning and his morning meal was prepared as well as all others then she would melt into the background as much as she could before he arrived.

Reaching the back of the cabin Ara turned, pressing her back against the heaving plank door and backed through it. A faint chill hung in the air within, but it was much warmer inside than it was outside and that warmth slipped around her as she turned and made her way toward the fire pit. Pausing at its side, she balanced the firewood on only her right arm and lifted a piece with her left hand, dropping it on the fire before she bent down and placed the rest on the earthen floor beside it. Her ankle groaned its protest to her efforts. Standing, she unwrapped soiled strip of linen from her hand then made her way to the corner where she had placed her bedding this morning after she rolled it up and retrieved the small pot of salve from within.

Her mind shifted from her injuries as she untied the string from the wooden jar and removed the cloth that covered it, to the food she needed to repair for tonight's meal. The woman had left after her morning meal then returned with a cut of fresh venison, showed Ara the stew pot then directed her to the small supply of fresh vegetables and herbs in the kitchen. After she finished rubbing the salve on her ankle and hand, Ara turned her attention toward that task.

Sweet pouring down his face, Rollo advanced on his opponent, swinging his sword in a downward arc. The English forged blade landed heavily against the shield of his opponent, sending a tremor through the steel and up his arm. The younger man stumbled backward several steps before he righted himself. Taking an aggressive stance, his knees bent slightly in a forward squatting manner, the younger man rolled the hilt of his sword in his hand as he eyed Rollo. Rollo adopted a similar stance, heart pounding with adrenaline, he knew the man's next move maybe before he did. The man moved quickly toward him, bringing the sword he held in his left hand back over his shoulder as he charged him. Rollo didn't move till the youth was almost upon him, quickly side stepping him, Rollo brought his sword up deflecting the blow easily. His opponent stumbled to the ground and stayed on his knees, chest visibly heaving as he lifted his gaze and met Rollos. The younger man smiled up at him good-naturedly and asked as Rollo Reached out to help him, "again?" Before Rollo could answer another voice spoke from close at hand, "brother."

Rollos spine instantly stiffened at the sound of Ragnar's voice and as he turned he said, "this English steel is much stronger ours."

Bjorn had come with a summons from Ragnar sometime ago. While the request had come in the form of "father wants you," it had still felt more like a command and Rollo had no doubt that was how it was intended. Anger was his first response and having no desire to be commanded about, Rollo had sent Bjorn back with this response "I will come when I am finished here." Bjorn's facial expression had more than conveyed he felt Rollo should just do as he was bid, but he'd run off to deliver Rollos reply anyway. The obtuseness of his last response was meant for the same purpose. Needless to say, the growing hint of irritation in his brother piercing blue eyes at the moment gave Rollo some satisfaction.

Not moving closer, Ragnar maintained the few feet of physical distance between them and held Rollos gaze as the other man dismissed himself, leaving them alone. Ignoring Rollos comment on the English sword he held in his hands, just as Rollo had ignored Ragnar's request, he let silence surround them for a moment. He had requested his brothers presence simply to see if his anger had quieted at all. Rollo had joined in the two days of feasting to celebrate their return, but those were the only times he'd seen his brother and they hadn't spoken more than a few words to each other and Rollo's were terse at best. In and of itself that surliness wasn't anything new. There had always been a degree of tension and unease between them since childhood that had grown when Lagertha chose him over Rollo. And despite what Rollo might think Ragnar had never set out to be a greater man than him, but It had continued to grow with the births of Ragnar's children and on through their adult lives, but not long after the day Ragnar became Earl, jealously and anger seemed to rule his brother. Even so, Ragnar still hoped his brother would have learned something after his actions in England and Ragnar forcing him to take the slave girl. Seeing the look in his brother's eyes and his manner, Ragnar wasn't surprised to see he hadn't. Despite his lack of surprise, Ragnar felt his irritation grow. What Ragnar said next he wouldn't have if Rollo had learned anything from recent events or showed even a hint of being contrite.

"I want you to go to Flokis and check the repairs to the ships."

Bristling, Rollo asked. "Are we planning a raid again soon?" He knew the answer before the question had been asked. They'd only just returned from England and Floki had only just returned to his home two days ago.

"No." Ragnar responded, holding Rollos gaze directly.

Most would see the request as a duty and run off to do Ragnar's bidding without question simply because he is Ragnar. Rollo saw it for what it was intended. Simply another way for Ragnar to remind Rollo he was beneath him. "It's my job to train our warriors." Rollo said, the anger he felt lacing his voice. He knew one was just as important as the other at this moment. "Send Torstein or Leif?"

"I need you to do this for me, brother." Ragnar said, the cold look in his eyes belying the neutral tone of his voice. And there it was, anger coiled throughout Rollo's body, Ragnar dictated and Rollo was expected to do his bidding again. Just as he'd done when he had made Rollo take that worthless slave girl and then took her worth from Rollos own spoils from the raid.

Ara dumped the fresh venison into the stew pot hanging over the fire as the door flew open, startling her, her heart instantly started racing and she froze. A set of angry dark eyes settled on her, contempt mixing in with the anger as they paused on her and he moved into the room, not bothering to close the door.

"Siggy!" Rollo bellowed already knowing she wouldn't be here, nevertheless her absence fueled his anger more as did girls presence in her place. "I need food." He barked at her, uncaring that she couldn't understand him. When her eyes simply grew wider and she didn't move he followed his harshly spoken command with another. "Now!" Then turned dismissively and moved toward the back of the house.

Siggy excused herself from helping Lagertha and hurried toward her home. Ragnar had walked into the hall, anger and irritation burning in his glacial blue eyes and Siggy had instantly known the source had to be Rollo. They had joined the feasting for the two days after the raid, but the foolish man wore his anger for all the world to see, failing to understand the easiest way to deal with Ragnar was to let him think he was getting his way.

She just stepped up to the open door of her own home in time to hear the order Rollo barked at the slave girl. Pausing just inside the door she assessed the situation. Neither had noticed her presence, the red haired girl stood immobile, her face ashen, her fearful gaze on Rollos retreating back as he stepped through the red, sheer curtain and into their sleeping quarters.

Snapping into action, irritation filling her, she moved toward the stupid girl. She didn't have time to deal with the slave and Rollo. Normally, she would go to Rollo first but it was best to deal with this problem first. Grabbing her arm harshly, Siggy directed her toward the counter and the food. When she couldn't seem to comprehend what Siggy wanted she pushed her out of the way with her elbow and grabbed a round loaf of bread from the basket on the counter along with the cloth covering it and a hunk of salted meat and a cheese from the shelf above and shoved them into the girl's hands.

Ara stared down at the food in her had happened so quickly she had had little time to think. He stormed in and Ara hadn't been able to move. That violent air that had clung to him the day he'd brought her to his home and the next morning as she had dumped his food in his lap was present once more and seemed to suck all the air from the room and she was terrified. Her heart pounded so furiously it felt like it would rip from her chest and when he yelled at her it picked up tempo. Then the woman was there, grabbing her arm and dragging her across the room, barking her own orders once they reached the counter. In the back of her mind, Ara had known what the woman wanted, recognizing the phrasing well enough to know she wanted food, but she'd still been in shock. Taking a deep breath, she placed the contents of her hands on the counter and began wrapping the food individually. She managed the chore quickly despite the shaking of her hands, only knowing she didn't want to relive those events of moments ago.

"Rollo?" Siggy questioned as she stepped into their sleeping quarter, her attention instantly going to the small leather satchel he held in his hands and the stuff he was violently shoving inside. He gazed at her fleetingly, the burning contempt and anger in his eyes taking her aback slightly as she watched him look away and pick his ax up from the bed and shove it roughly into his belt.

"He is sending me to Flokis to check on the progress of his repairs on the ships." Rollo said spitefully as he moved across the room and grabbed his cloak from a peg on the wall.

"My brother wants me to remember my place." He spat next, his gaze shifting to the curtains separating the girl from his view. Following the direction of his gaze, Siggy eyed the curtain thoughtfully for a moment, before her gaze shifted back to Rollo. "You shouldn't let him see your anger, Rollo."

She continued when he didn't reply. "Do his bidding and except his edicts." Looking up her, he gave her contemptuous looked and scoffed before he moved toward her and the curtain she stood in front of. Siggy reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping his movements. "Do his bidding, act contrite so he feels you've learned whatever lesson he's trying to teach."

She felt Rollo stiffen more under her touch. "I am not his errand boy." Rollo ground out through his teeth as his gaze shifted and he looked down at her. The volatile look in his eyes had her speaking again, using words she hoped would soothe his wounded pride. "We both know you will be the greater man Rollo. I believe Ragnar sees this as well, may even fear it. The best to be done is make Ragnar think you know your place." The words had their desired effect and after a moment some of the anger and hatred left his gaze.

A noise from the other side of the curtain caught Siggy's attention and she said, "the girl needs to learn our language. I can't always have to physically show her what needs to be done." Seeing a spark of anger rekindle in his gaze at the mention of the girl, Siggy quickly added, "it will not only be of help to me, it will also make her of greater value when she is sold."

For a moment Siggy thought he'd argue but in the end he said, "do whatever you think should be done, just don't bother me with questions about her again."

Siggy did not eat at home that night, instead she made her way to the Great Hall. There wasn't any feasting going on but Siggy hoped no matter Ragnar's present anger with Rollo, given his absence Lagertha would offer her a place at their table. She'd meant what she told Rollo about doing Ragnar's bidding and acting as though it was common place. She had been doing just that since her husband died and she intended to continue. Siggy had no intentions of teaching the slave their language herself and she could simply ask Lagertha for Athelstans help, but asking Ragnar would give the image of humbleness and when her husband sat in the seat of the Earl, he would have expected to have been asked himself, especially, if the request entailed using one of his own slaves. She planned to show Ragnar Lothbrok that same courtesy and now she sat at the table in private quarters that used to be her own, with Earl Ragnar and his family, acting her part and waiting for just that moment.

**thanks for reading! **


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